


Baz comes back

by dark_as_pitch



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slight Canon Divergence, Tiny bit of Angst, but basically fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 18:59:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12282492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_as_pitch/pseuds/dark_as_pitch
Summary: Baz comes back. Simon loses his chill.





	Baz comes back

**Author's Note:**

> Everything belongs to the wonderful Rainbow Rowell.

Simon sat on the end of his bed with his head in his hands, leg bouncing. He could feel the day’s jitters racking through his body. His magic was bubbling up and swirling around the room.

Baz came back today. _Baz_.

Simon almost couldn’t believe it. Bursting into the dining hall like that, fancying himself some kind of god. Actually, he supposed he could believe it. It was just like Baz to make a scene, if only to remind everyone that he existed and he was better than them. _Twat._

Of course once Simon’s head felt like it wasn’t completely stuffed with cotton wool, he noticed what was different. Baz looked gaunt and greyer than ever. He looked like his insides had been replaced with lead. And honestly; it was all so wrong on him. Where was the vampire that he was used to, in peak physical condition, strong and alert with his chin held high.

Of course Baz still maintained his sneer and carefully blank expression, showing to all the world that he was just fine, thank you very much. And anyone would believe that to be the truth, as long as they didn’t look too close. But Simon was never any good at looking at anything other than Baz, so.

Simon wanted to run up to him, pat him down, knock him over. He needed to know where he’d been and what he’d been plotting and why he looked like he hadn’t eaten since the last time Simon saw him. But all he could manage was to stand there, confused and shaking, while he watched Baz ignore him and sit down for breakfast as if he were eight minutes late to breakfast instead of eight weeks.

This same reaction of bristling and smoking magic seemed to stick with Simon all day, not quite knowing how to deal with Baz apart from acknowledging his presence in a room with a violent vibrating silence.

Now though as he sits in their room waiting for him to return from hunting, Simon can feel the questions almost bubbling out of him. He lets out a sharp sigh and stands up.

_How dare  Baz do this to me? Does he even realise what these past few weeks were like? How was I meant to eat and sleep when he wasn’t here? When he was off plotting and – and getting hurt._

Without realising he had started pacing, but that last thought stops him in his tracks. He can’t manage to shake the sight of Baz looking so weak from his head. All day his mind had been swimming with images of Baz performing some dark ritual or being fatally ill or captured and tortured.

He tugs at his curls and falls on Baz’s bed. It’s driving him crazy thinking that Baz was off doing – something – without him. Alone. While Simon sat at Watford thinking he was actually achieving something by searching the Catacombs and the Wavering Wood; as if Baz’s big plan was something as juvenile as jumping out from behind a rock to scare Simon. He stares at the ceiling and feels his eyes start to burn.

_Aleister Crowley. What happened to you,  Baz?_

The twisting knot in his stomach as he heard the doorknob turn makes him think that he may be about to find out the answer to that question.

Baz walks in and his eyes widen when he sees Simon sprawled on his bed. After a split second he tries to correct his expression into a scowl, but his efforts don’t work quite as well as they usually do. It’s just too late at night and Baz is too exhausted to try to pull back into himself enough to hide how he is feeling. And, Merlin, was Snow stirring up a lot of feelings.

Simon jumps up from the bed. They stare at each other. It’s just the two of them now, up in their tower. The Old Families aren’t there. The Mage isn’t there. Agatha isn’t there. And if Simon was being honest with himself, he was exhausted too.

In a blink Simon closes the space between them, and pulls Baz to him. He wraps his arms around the taller boy’s shoulders in an iron grip and pushes his face into the side of Baz’s head.

Baz, bless him, is very confused. And very tired.  So instead of staying frozen or pushing Snow away or spitting in his face, which he believes are all appropriate responses to this weird new dimension he has fallen into, he brings his own arms up and sighs, low and content. Because Snow is warm and smells of school issued bar-soap and he is pretty much the only reason Baz has not yet crumpled to the floor. Crowley, he’s never felt more at home.

They stand there, two boys locked in an embrace. Neither of them are quite sure if it’s a comforting one or a violent one.

Simon (who is having a bit of a light bulb moment in his head) is struck by how right this feels, having Baz right where he can see him. He’s right there in his arms and not off hurting people or being hurt. Baz. Three infuriating inches taller. Ridiculous vampire hair that for once looks all floppy and soft, falling into his eyes. Worryingly skinny. Simon’s anger resurfaces.

“You fucker,” Simon hisses into Baz’s ear, clutching him impossibly tighter. “You absolute git. Where were you? What were you doing? Why weren’t you _here_? _Why are you hurt?_ ” Simon asks. His voice cracks on the last word, which kinda surprises them both.

And honestly, Baz  is feeling so far from normality, let alone reality, that he doesn’t care enough to lie. He is so tired of lying to Simon Snow.

“I was kidnapped by Numpties.”

Simon pulls back suddenly and stares at him in shock. “ _Numpties_?”

“Yes, Snow,” Baz scowls. “They can be vicious when they put their minds to something. Trust me.” A bitter note has creeped into his tone.

“Trust you.” Simon can feel an unexpected smile twitching at the sides of his mouth.

“Yes. Well,” Baz blusters a bit uncharacteristically, “don’t expect the full story tonight. Or, you know, ever. I just want to fall into bed and stay there for a few decades.” He flicks his gaze away from Snow’s stupidly genuine blue eyes. _Fool_ , he thinks. Though he’s not entirely sure he knows whom exactly he’s talking about.

Only then does he notice that he and Simon are very much still wrapped around each other. He curses himself internally for drinking so deeply in the Catacombs, as he feels his skin warm up his neck and along his cheekbones.

Simon notices, of course. The lighting may not be great in their room, but, _Morgana_ , seeing colour bloom over Baz’s grey complexion is glorious on a good day. Now it stretches his smile to a full-blown grin. He pulls on Baz again, bringing him close (unnecessarily close, if he was being honest with himself). But from here he can see the softer edges of Baz’s face that the other boy worked so hard to hide during the day. He can see the dark circles under his eyes and the flecks of silver in his irises. He wonders if the skin on his cheeks would feel as smooth as it looks.

“It’s really crap around here without you.” His voice is all liquid warmth, it’s a bit embarrassing.

“Miss me, Snow?”

“I- Yeah. Yes, I did.” He looks Baz in the eye. “Watford didn’t feel right without you here.”

“Sad that you couldn’t fulfil your destiny as the Chosen One when your nemesis ran off?” Baz said, his expression turning sour.

“It doesn’t feel like home without you.”

Well. That shut Baz up. He didn’t think he could come up with a coherent answer if he tried.

“Simon...” he said.

And then _Snow_ kissed _him_.

Home, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a fic, so hopefully it isn't too terrible. I hope you enjoyed it though! :) x


End file.
